At Day's End
by jerjonji
Summary: Alone, nearing the end of her life, Megumi is depressed and can't keep her eyes off the horizon, staring toward China. Part of my AU RK world, and the sequel to Silence is Steel Gray for those who wanted a different ending.
1. Alone

At Day's End

By jerjonji

Typical and usual disclaimer: jerjonji owns nothing except an over active imagination and the unusual habit of borrowing other people's characters for her own pleasure. An while she borrows freely from "Nobuhiro Watsuki, the creative mastermind, and owner of all RK, she does with great respect and love.

Chapter 1: Alone

Confronted by the undeniable truth facing her in the mirror each morning, the streaks of gray appearing in her jet-black hair, the lines showing under her eyelids, and the wrinkles showing on the back of her hands of mercy, Megumi was seriously depressed. She barely could lift one foot in front of the other, and forced herself to go into the office every day to treat her beloved patients. Not even the smallest ones whose tears turned to smiles at the bright red lollipops she offered after giving them a shot could warm the coldness in her heart. Death was knocking at her door and she was alone and scared, empty and afraid.

She sat in the evenings on her front porch, rocking gently, watching God paint the sky in watercolors, until the sunset faded away and the fireflies danced around her. She didn't feel any joy in the show. But her anger was slowly leeching away, and a hidden sorrow began to escape from its buried coffin. She refused to cry, refused to indulge in useless memories, refused to be pitied, refused to feel sad, so she felt grey. Grey became her favorite color and she wore it constantly. "It matches my hair," she joked with her receptionist.

"But you look so pretty in greens and blue," she protested. "They bring out the colors of your eyes."

Megumi waved her off. "Nonsense, child. I'm too old to care if my clothes match my eyes." And in her heart, she believed her words. She felt older than creation of the world. She'd seen too much pain, hurt, and injuries to feel otherwise, and she had no one left to share it with. _Grey is the color of my heart,_ she thought. _Grey is the color of my life. Grey is the color of my soul. _

It was the sense of aloneness that bothered her the most. She couldn't bear to visit with Yahiko and his brood only to have to force herself to leave and return to the empty house that never heard her own children's laugh or tears. So she went less and less and gradually she became the old forgotten auntie everyone feels responsible for and guilty about for not taking better care of her.

And now, she sits alone at night. No warm body to chase away the night chills. No loving arms to hold her tight against the fears of death. No laughing eyes to chase away the doubts of growing old and ugly. She sits alone, on her front porch, her hands quietly in her lap, her eyes west towards China, no hope in her heart or eyes. She sits and rocks and remembers and the sky turns grey matching her mood, her clothes, and her life.


	2. Kenji’s Visit

Chapter Two: Kenji's Visit

She tried to delay his departure as long as possible, fearful of the emptiness his absence would magnify. She fixed his favorite foods and set them before him, not partaking, content to watch him relish her cooking. She does it so rarely anymore, not having the energy to cook for herself, not really seeing the point of it. An apple or banana here and there, a carton of yogurt, dried cereal, a salad for lunch, and her dietary needs were met. Even popping a Lean Cuisine in the microwave took too much effort.

She drank in his presence as if she'd never see him again; memorizing his features, as if he'd brought her hope in a brightly wrapped box. Her fingers itched to explore his face, push his hair off his forehead, but she clinched them tight.

They talked about nothing. They talked about everything. It hadn't been that long since his last visit, a few months, but it felt like a life time. He told her about his teaching and his students and she felt it was because he wanted to fill the silence. She was flattered that he cared, this only child of her closest friends.

She had known him since before he was born, feeling him kick inside the womb, singing to him so he'd rest and give his mother some peace. He kicked so hard that a glass flew off her swollen belly and hit the wall, like a good kenshi[1].

He'd grown up right, the anger gone from his eyes, the sense of maturity in his very bearing. She remembered him as a toddler, chasing Yahiko with a bokken[2] , crying if his mother was out of sight. She still recalled how sweet he smelled, all sweaty and tearful, when she'd scoop him up and sing to him. When he was ten, he was awkward with brooding eyes and a cloud of emptiness hung over him. She couldn't stand him then, wanting to slap the sadness away. He had everything a child could want, but he refused to be happy, carrying his anger as a badge of identity. She would tuck him into bed when she visited and he'd beg for a song, his anger fading from his eyes briefly and the child she loved appearing. At fifteen, his anger blossomed into rebellion until he lost the thing he hated most and had to start looking for a base of stability. He stayed with her that summer, doing chores around the office, running errands. She'd hoped he'd stay for school that fall, but encouraged him to return home where he was needed.

As a college student, he'd been an arrogant know-it-all, and rarely found time to visit or call. She sent him spending money and care packages and he'd email a thank you, but never say what he was doing. Now the circle was complete. He was waiting the birth of his first child, becoming a father himself.

That was why he was here; really needing some reassurance that he'd be a good father, that he'd be a better father than his father. 

She poured him a cup of tea, her fingers lingering on his shoulder. _This man is the best of them, of us,_ she thought. _Kenshin's hair and bearing, Kaoru's heart and spirit, Kenshin's eyes, Kaoru's soul_. She wanted to comfort him and tell him that he was a different person than his father, that his father loved him, and that he'd be a great father, but she was afraid they'd be just more empty words. She feverishly racked her brain, searching for something. She remembered one of her most precious belongings, excusing herself to find it.

She knelt in front of him, a small black lacquered box cupped in her hand, as if it held precious jewels. Her fingers caressed the embossed cherry blossoms on the lid one last time. She offered it to him silently.

He took the ceramic box, feeling its warmth from her hands and lifted the lid. He caught his breath. His mother's favorite filigreed silver hair comb, handed from her grandmother to her mother to his mother, lay on the purple velvet. Confused, he looked at Megumi's face. "I thought we buried this -," he started.

Megumi shook her head no. Her voice choked. She pushed away the sadness, amazed she felt so strongly after all this time, as if it was yesterday, the feelings were still so raw. "That was the one your father gave her when they got married. It was the one she loved to wear because it reminded her of him. But look," she pointed to the box with her eyes.

He picked up the comb and under it was a small spool of his father's hair wrap, the one he'd worn all his life. He fingered the faded cord, remembering her mother lovingly brushing the tangles and snares out his father's long, unruly hair and wrapping it with this cord. He ran his fingers through his hair and pulled it back. Megumi took the faded cord from his hands and quickly wrapped it around his hair. She caught his profile and with his hair pulled back, he looked so much like Kenshin when she first met him. Tears formed in her eyes.

"Why do you have this?" he responded softly.

"This is the container I gave him that held the medicine he needed. He carried it with him during his travels. He'd give it back when it was gone and I'd fill it again. The last time he gave it back, these were inside and I knew it was too late. There was no longer any medicine that would help. It was his way of saying thank you and good-by. I used some of his hair cord when we prepared him for his final journey." She shook off the memories.

"But now that you're married, your mother would love to see the mother of her grandchild wearing her grandmother's comb in her hair. And the hair cord- well, that's up to you." She kissed his cheek lightly. "You are the man he might have been if he had had a different path to follow, a different childhood. You are the best of him, the best of us."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to him, hugging her. She couldn't remember the last time she'd been embraced and it felt too good_. It will be twice as cold here when he leaves_, she thought.

She watched him drive off until the car faded away, until the last dust trail fell to the ground. The silence grew. She sighed and went in to wash up, thankful for the distraction, finding comfort in the distracting task. When she was done, she returned to her front porch and her eyes searched the distant horizon. She longed for the tall man of her youth to return, but she couldn't lie to herself anymore. Their final good-by had been as painful as the one she'd said for the parents of the young man who'd just left. It had been forever, and she was so tired of being alone, so gray, so lonely.

  


* * *

[1] Term meaning fighter, not of the samurai class

[2] wooden sword


	3. The Ghost in the Examining Room

Chapter 3: The Ghost in the Examining Room

Megumi was moving at lightening speed from one patient to the next. The office was over-crowded from the recent flu epidemic and she barely took time to dispense more than a prescription or two and to reassure each patient that they'd get over the flu quickly. She grabbed the folder off the door, flipping it open to skim the symptoms as she flew into the examining room. The gentle smile faded from her face, and her eyes darted around the room, looking for an escape route, like a bird trapped inside the garage being tracked by a patient cat.

Flustered, she looked down at her nurse's preliminary notes, trying to regroup, to refocus. _How long had it been?_ She shook her head, and lifted her eyes above the folder. He hadn't changed much: graying around the temples, wrinkles in the corners of his eyes, slim and fit as if he still worked out every day.

Professionalism her shield, she scanned his chart. "Losing hand strength, hummm. Both hands?"

"Megumi," he said. His voice hadn't changed either, his deep tenor sent chills down her spine.

_Foolish schoolgirl reaction_, she thought, scolding herself. She set down his chart and walked toward him. "Both? Right or left? When did you first start noticing it?" she demanded.

He held out both hands towards her. She took his right hand in hers, prodding gently. "Open." He obeyed instantly. "Make a fist. Tighter."

He shifted uneasily on the table as if he was uncomfortable by her touch. She couldn't meet his eyes. The calluses from his sword work hadn't faded away, and his hands were chilly to the touch. She took his left hand and felt him wince and pull away at her prodding. She held it tight and drew it back, tracing the nerve damage, focused on the problem and not the man with azure eyes at the other end of it.

"The nerve damage may be," she didn't finish the sentence. He'd pulled her toward him, into his chest, into his arms. He kissed her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips. She found herself responding to his touch and yielding to his kiss in spite of herself. Reluctantly, she pulled herself away, patting his cheek gently, regrouping herself mentally.

"Supper?" he asked.

She shook her head no. "It looks like you have some nerve damage. I think we need to get an MRI at least and maybe send you to a specialist," she continued professionally as if he hadn't just made her cheeks burn from the closeness of his presence.

"Megumi," he interrupted her spiel. "I never hated you."

Tears she forgotten to cry years ago flooded her eyes and she turned away, unwilling to hear him after all these years.

"I never hated you."

She moved to the door and opened it. "See my nurse about setting up the MRI," she replied as if he hadn't spoken. She was almost gone and nearly didn't hear his last words.

"It was myself I hated, not you," he said softly.

She fled down the long hallway, seeking refuge in her cluttered office. Her hands wiped away the tears, touched her lips. _No, Aoshi had truly been there. He hadn't been a ghost._


	4. First Love

Chapter Four: First Love

Megumi rolled her neck, trying to get the kinks out from the long day. She hadn't had time to think about her surprise visitor after he left, and was surprised by the sense of grief overwhelming her as she unlocked the car. She sat, her head on the steering wheel, feeling the exhaustion smack her as if she was body surfing in the day's stress.

Images of the first time she saw the young Okashira inundated her memories. Watching him from behind the curtains at Kanny's house, seeing him carry Beshimi to the nurse's office after Beshimi had been injured in a fight, taunting him to gain his attention, biting him when he kissed her roughly the first time, crawling into his bed and making some of the sweetest loving she'd ever had, feeling his hair wrapped around her fingers.

She never thought about those years before her life was changed by the gentle redhead with the scar and his rooster friend. She wasn't the same young girl in Kanny's care: being used for his fowl deeds, destroying other men as he wished; a pawn without any control over her actions. Himura had rescued her from that life and when she left it behind, she left her memories of him as well. Her heart sang his name and she squeezed her eyes tight trying not to hear the song.

She didn't want to hear the song. She'd quit listening to music years ago. After Kenshin died and Sano walked away, she shut down the part of her heart that felt. Content to feel the cold steel of apathy rather than the constant ache of loneliness, she started living her living again, careful not to become attached to anyone else who would leave her, not even wanting a pet for company. Everyone she loved left forever and the pain of being left behind was more intense than the worse poison she knew. It was far better to not risk being hurt again, of never loving again than go through that anguish alone.

Many nights after Sano walked away, she stood in front of the old medicine cabinet, one hand on the tiny bottle that was guaranteed to make the hurt go away forever and the other hand clenching the note he left behind. Tears leaked out of her eyes at the oddest sights until she slowly build up a resistance to the memories and shut the pain away. She no longer cried when she saw a young boy teasing a girl, or saw a kite in the sky. She could even hear his name and not need to reach for a tissue.

When Sano first left, she couldn't believe he was gone, checking her cell phone a hundred times a day for his familiar text message, leaving her email open and running whenever mail arrived, and seeing him in the clouds, in the rain puddles, in the dew on her car in the morning. But he was never there and slowly she toughened up, not checking her email for days, or running to answer the phone anymore. Slowly, gradually, she quit caring.

She sighed, sat up, and ran her hand through her tangled hair. Just because an old love appeared didn't mean she had to lose it. Just because he kissed her didn't mean she had to reopen a part of her life she thought was closed to her forever. He'd been kissing her without her permission since the first time they met and by now, she should be used to the physical jerk that happened when she caressed his velvet lips. It's just a physical reaction, she thought, turning the key in the ignition. Music filled the car as the car engine caught and purred.

_Ashita no imagoro ni wa  
Anata wa doko ni irun darou  
Dare wo omotterun darou  
  
You are always gonna be my love  
Itsuka darekato mata koi ni ochitemo  
I'll remember to love you taught me how  
You are always gonna be the one  
Ima wa mada kanashii love songu  
Atarashii uta utaeru made  
  
_

She jerked in dismay and astonishment, searching for the source of the sound. She was sure she'd left the radio on NPR this morning. She pushed the eject button on the CD player. The familiar neat printing on the CD shook her. She checked the back seat, self-conscious, but it was empty as she suspected it would be. The leader of the Owibanwabanshu wouldn't be stupid enough to get caught hiding in the backseat, but he was more than capable of unlocking her door without the key.

That was his neat schoolboy script on the disc. She knew it as well as her own handwriting. She'd watched him write class work during his slow recovery from Viral Meningitis that he'd gotten from that tiny street urchin, Misao. He sat at the table struggling to concentrate and she'd scrunch up her face watching him print each word painfully trying to regain his strength and shaking off the mental sluggishness he wasn't used to experiencing. Sometimes, she'd distract him with a laugh or a kiss until his head would clear and he could focus on the task at hand again, but mostly she watched him from behind her own textbooks, memorizing his face, his hands, his throat as if each time she saw him would be the last.

She knew in her heart she was the wrong person for him, that she shouldn't love him, that it would hurt when she left him, that he'd hate her forever, but she wasn't strong enough to give him up and let him go before it was too late. She was a weakling, a cripple, and she wanted him. She wanted him even if it meant he'd hate her later. She had wanted him so much.

She held the silver disc carefully between her fingers, the prism rainbow catching her eye. A long slender fingerprint stilled her heart. She traced the fingerprint lightly, afraid of smearing it, unable to believe he was careless enough to leave a fingerprint behind on the CD. Her fingers retained the memory of his face, his chest, his arms even after all this time, as if his texture was embedded into her very skin. She slid the CD back in the player. The first words felt like a slap on her face.

_Tachidomaru jikan ga  
Ugoki dasouto shiteru  
Wasuretakunai kotobakari_

The night they said good-bye was a memory she locked in box, unwilling to open, unwilling to face, unwilling to look him in the eyes after her betrayal. She understood how much he hated her. She'd been his first love, and she'd sold him out to the man who wanted to use him and his position. She longed for him to call her back when she walked away from him, for him to stop her, but he didn't and she knew he would never be able to forgive her for her actions. When she learned of the depth of Kanny's plot, she died inside, knowing she would never be able to make it right with him again, that she had lost him forever.

_Ashita no imagoro niwa  
Watashi wa kitto naite iru  
Anatawo omotterundarou_

___   
  
_The blood drained from her face, and she covered her eyes, unwilling to hear the words, to hear the meaning behind them. But the song was relentless, the notes and the words pounding on her heart, breaking down the walls to her soul that she'd bricked up years ago. Each word was a sledge hammer whamming on the steel door. She was afraid to hope, afraid to believe, afraid to open up old wounds. They were lies, the words to this song, they were all lies. He didn't mean for her to take them personally. He didn't mean them. They were a tool for getting back at her, for hurting her.

_You will always be inside my heart   
Itsumo anata dake no basho ga aru kara  
I hope that I have a place in your heart too  
Now and forever you are still the one  
Ima wa mada kanashii love song  
Atarashii uta utaeru made_

Unbidden tears flowed down her face and she sobbed, nearly hysterical, crying for all the losses she'd felt in her life. She cried for her family that never came home, for the boy she'd betrayed, for the people she'd injured working for Kanny, for the evil she had participated in, for the love she could never give, for the friends that died, for the man she had rejected until he could no longer stand being near her and left forever, for the children she never had, for the dreams that had died unfulfilled.

_You are always gonna be my love  
Itsuka darekato mata koi ni ochitemo  
I'll remember to love you taught me how  
You are always gonna be the one  
Mada kanashii love song  
Now and forever_

She wailed as if her soul was on fire, the hurt primal and cutting to her inner core of existence. All the hurt and pain raging inside, boiling over at the words tumbling in her brain, as the song played ruthlessly on.

"Shush," the voice said, as he pulled her into his arms. "It's ok. I forgive you. I never stopped loving you. It's ok." She had been crying so hard, she didn't hear the car door open. She barely felt him holding her at first. "Shush. Don't cry. It's gonna' be ok. I promise. It'll be ok."

She hiccupped and swallowed a sob, feeling his strong arms surround her, pulling her to safety, and she cried afresh. He held her gently, rocking her slightly, waiting for her flood of tears to subside and patting her back as if she was an infant.

English Translation of Utada Hikaru's song, First Love

_Tomorrow, at this time  
Where will you be?  
Who will you be thinking about?  
  
You are always gonna be my love  
Even if I fall in love with someone once again  
I'll remember to love  
You taught me how  
You are always gonna be the one  
It's still a sad song  
Until I can sing a new song  
  
The paused time is  
About to start moving  
There's many things that I don't want to forget about  
  
Tomorrow, at this time  
I will probably be crying  
I will probably be thinking about you  
  
You will always be inside my heart  
You will always have your own place  
I hope that I have a place in your heart too  
Now and forever you are still the one  
It's still a sad song  
Until I can sing a new song  
  
_


End file.
